


His Failure

by madwriter223



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A bit of gore, Blood, But Graphic Threats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I think I made a lot of Worf's issues worst in this one, In Self-Defence though, Kidnapping, Loving Marriage, M/M, Mutilation, The first part of the fic is pretty intense, but seriously, no actual rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwriter223/pseuds/madwriter223
Summary: While Captain Sisko and Jadzia were helping the two warring Rabyen factions hammer out a peace treaty, Worf had been tasked with keeping an eye on the only civilian accompanying them on this trip. And he would continue to do that, whether or not they'd accidentally broken the law or not. He would not fail - Quark would be safe with him.[Except it won't be that easy to keep either of them safe]





	His Failure

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually inspired by the Star Trek Voyager episode "The Chute" - Tom and Harry end up in an alien prison and things get pretty scary and drastic. I thought how to translate a similar situation with Deep Space Nine characters, and somehow I ended up putting Worf and Quark into similar conditions. ^_^
> 
> READ THE TAGS, there's a number of warnings you guys should be aware of.

'He would not fail' Worf sworn to himself as he kept a firm hold on Quark's shoulders. The Rabyen behind him jabbed him in the back with a barked order to move faster. Worf resisted the urge to snarl back at him. They didn't need another incident, like the one that had landed them here. Now, if Worf could only figure out what it was that they had done. It must've been something. Perhaps there was some kind of obscure law on Rabyen they hadn't adhered to. A rule of conduct they'd broken, perhaps, or some accidental insult they made to someone. There had to be something. 

They reached some kind of door and an unfamiliar Rabyen grabbed Quark's arm and tried to pull him from Worf's grasp. Worf didn't allow it, pulling Quark close and pushing the Rabyen away. “He stays with me!”

While Captain Sisko and Jadzia were helping the two warring Rabyen factions hammer out a peace treaty, Worf had been tasked with keeping an eye on the only civilian accompanying them on this trip. And he would continue to do that, whether or not they'd accidentally broken the law or not.

Another Rabyen tried to get Quark away from him, but this time Worf broke his wrist before he could even touch a lapel. They were already in the middle of a political incident, that much was obvious, so what harm could come from another one? If only someone would explain what they had done.

The Rabyens didn't try to separate them again and instead pushed them both through the newest set of doors. They found themselves in a transporter, and Worf had the distinct feeling they would not be sent anywhere good.

*~*

Worf had failed.

He should've paid closer attention. He shouldn't have focused so much on those Rabyens jabbing their weapons at him, she should've ignored that Gorn screeching an attack bellow at him. He shouldn't have stepped so far out of the alcove, he shouldn't have exposed the entrance so widely. 

But he had. And now they had Quark.

Worf had failed.

Quark squealed in terror as one of the Mijms grabbed him with a tentacle and yanked him out of the security of the alcove. He kicked and screamed Worf's name, and Worf tried to grab him back, he really did. But the crowd of prisoners surged towards him, cutting him away from rescuing Quark.

Worf had failed. And Brogenar laughed in his face as the Mijm deposited Quark into his vile grip. He grabbed Quark's neck, squeezing till he stopped his plaintive cries. “Finally,” Brogenar grinned wider and hauled Quark closer. He pressed Quark's back to his front, keeping him there with an arm around his throat. “You put up a good fight, Klingon, but I have your prize now.”

“You will release him at once!” Worf snarled, punching one prisoner in the face and elbowing another, trying to get to Quark. But the crowd was too thick, the prisoners too many.

Brogenar snorted. “Not a chance. I finally got what I want. You held us back for five whole days, though. You are strong, Klingon. If you weren't so uppity, I'd offer you a place as one of my followers.” The arm around Quark's throat tightened, and the Ferengi let out a squack as his air was cut off, his hands scrambling at Brogenar's arm.

Worf growled, low and dangerous. “You have no authority over Federation citizens! Release him at once!”

“You're not in your fancy Federation, Klingon! I rule in here! And I decide what happens to each new meat! Five days waiting for it made me very impatient.” Brogenar's face twisted into a vile grin, and he put his hand under Quark's chin, yanking his head so that it was facing Worf. “I could've been kind to you, Klingon, but I don't like waiting.” His fingers tightened on Quark's cheeks, squeezing as if he was about to break his jaw with force alone. “And you know what I'm going to do with your little pet? I am going to do whatever I want.” He grinned wider. His hand released Quark's face and moved upwards, palming at his skull in a mockery of a caress. “Ferengis make the funniest squeals when they're speared. But you probably already know that. Is that why you didn't let him out of your sight? Because you didn't want to share?”

Worf snarled at the gall and the threat. “I will not allow you to dishonor him with such a vile atrocity!” He threw himself at the crowd, and managed to take out a good half before one of the cowardly villains stabbed him in the side. Worf yanked the blade out and slammed it into his attacker's eye, then kicked him aside. But his next step turned into a stagger, and Worf was forced to move back into the alcove, one hand pressing tightly against the bleeding wound.

Brogenar grinned at him. “Had enough?”

“Never!” Worf snarled, fighting his body's urge to lean against the nearby wall. He would not show weakness. “As long as there is breath within my chest, I will not give in to the likes of you!”

Brogenar snorted. “Just for that, I'm gonna make you watch as I spear your little Ferengi. And I will. I will spear him over and over until there is no more squeals left in him. It might take days!” He licked the back of Quark's skull. Quark didn't react, frozen in terror as he was. “And then I'm going to give him to the rest, let them have a go! As many as they want. I'm sure they'll rip a few more squeals out of him.” The crowd laughed, cheering all manner of lewd and vicious things. Worf felt sick. His failure had paved the way to this.

Quark's terror-filled eyes met his. He was trembling all over, his skin ashen. His hands were clenched around Brogenar's arm, fingers digging into the skin, but it was as if his sharp nails didn't even register. The grip around his neck wasn't loosening at all.

“And once we are all done, and you have seen every last bit of it!” Brogenar continued, yanking Quark upwards so that he was forced to stand on the tips of his bare toes. “Then I am gonna to rip a bone out of you,” he pointed at Worf. “And sharpen it up into a blade. Then I'm gonna use it to cut off every part of your precious little Ferengi that sticks out and feed them to you. You get to keep what's left after that. How's that sound, Mr Klingon of the Federation?”

The crowd cheered again, and Worf trembled. With rage, with despair, with revulsion, with exhaustion. He trembled because there was nothing he could do now. He had failed, and unless he could think of something, anything, Brogenar and his sycophantic psychopaths would do exactly as they just described. Worf had no doubt they were capable of it, considering the prison they were all in. It was obviously designed to hold the worst of the worst, and there was nothing Worf could do to stop them.

By the expression on Quark's face, he had no doubts about that either. He stared at Worf, his face wrought with despair and terror. He was breathing in short panicky inhales, shaking like a leaf while Brogenar's arm was still holding him trapped. He opened his mouth, to scream, to yell, to plead, Worf didn't know. It wouldn't matter anyway. Brogenar was adamant on performing each atrocity he had 'decided' upon, still grinning and mocking Worf with each second he had Quark pressed against his chest.

Except. Quark hadn't opened his mouth to speak. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, presenting two rows of sharp teeth. Teeth Worf knew could crush snail shells as easily as if biting into a ripe peach.

Quark opened his mouth wide, as wide as he could, and bit down on Brogenar's arm. His teeth sank into the flesh, ripping and shredding as blood burst out of the wound, drenching Quark's face. Brogenar screamed in pain and grabbed at Quark's head, trying to pull him off. But no. Quark chomped down again. He jerked his head to the side as he ripped a chunk of bleeding meat free and spat it into the crowd separating Worf from him. 

The crowd parted in shock, and the chunk landed on the sandy ground, blood spreading out around it. Quark made use of this opportunity. He twisted out of Brogenar's now weak grip and sprinted between the prisoners, sliding into the alcove and pressing close to Worf's back. He was still trembling, shaking, covered in blood, but he was once again safe behind Worf and there was hope.

Brogenar clutched at his mangled arm, the blood gushing out of the wound in short pulses. **“Kill them!”** he screeched, face already losing color. “KILL THEM BOTH FOR THIS!”

Worf reached behind himself and grabbed at Quark, pressing him even closer to his back. His other hand raised into a fist and he let out a loud war bellow. Let them try. As long as Quark was with him, Worf hadn't failed and he wasn't about to!

The prisoners shook off their stupor and drew nearer with a cacophony of anger and vileness, each of them arming themselves with shivs, blades or claws. Worf moved back into the alcove, hoping the narrow entrance would be enough to force them to come at him one by one. He could take them out one my one, he had to take them out! He couldn't fail again!

And then, suddenly, miraculously, impossibly, the blue lights of the transporter surrounded him and Quark, whisking them away from that horrendous hell.

They materialized in the transporter room, and they were home. Surrounded by Federation uniforms, familiar yellow, blue and red. Familiar walls, familiar smells, familiar faces, and Quark still behind him, still with him.

Worf hadn't failed.

He hadn't failed. 

He grinned, his parched lips cracking from the strain. For a brief moment, he lowered his defenses just a fraction, relaxed his shoulders just enough for his exhaustion to claim him.

*~*

When Worf woke up next, he was clean, lying on a soft mattress, the familiar smells of an infirmary all around him. He was also no longer wearing that degrading prison uniform. Instead, he was dressed in the soft purple garb all Federation patients wore. 

It should probably not feel as comforting as it did.

“Worf?” the sweet voice of his wife caught his attention, and Worf managed to turn his head to face her. Jadzia smiled at him, and lay her hand on his cheek. “Worf? Can you hear me?”

“Jadzia,” he managed to murmur, and nuzzled into her soft palm. He knew full well that her delicate hands were capable of wielding any weapon with deadly precision, and he felt something deep within him finally relax. 

“Yes, it's me.” Her soft murmur was a balm to his soul and he let out a deep content sigh. “Do you know where you are?”

Ah, yes. The questions. He forced his eyes away from her darling features and looked around the room he was in. He recognized it easily. He'd been in one enough time to learn them by heart. “In one of the private rooms in the infirmary on DS9.”

“Yes, that's right.” Jadzia tugged his head back to face her, and he smiled. Smiling helped when she had her worried frown on, just as she had now. “Are you in any pain?”

Worf focused inwards, taking stock of his body. All the injuries he'd received in that prison were gone, the parts of his body he knew had been injured numb to his senses. Even his side, he remembered getting stabbed just before they'd been beamed to safety. That only meant there were numerous numbing devices placed on him. That was worrisome, as numbing devices meant the injury was severe enough to warrant surgery.

“I am not,” he said. “When will I recover?”

Jadzia chuckled and smoothed her hand down his cheek. “Not for a while yet. You still need surgery to set the bones in your arm and legs, as well as three ribs. Your organs are relatively well, though you probably will lose one of your livers.”

“It will grow back,” Worf assured her, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. And then, because he had to know, “And Quark?”

“He's fine,” Jadzia was quick to say, and Worf breathed a sigh of relief. “All he had were some scratches and bruises. He- he did beam up covered in blood, though. Quark said he- that he bit someone?”

“Yes. They'd grabbed him. I couldn't get to him, so he had to defend himself.” Worf thought back to that bite wound and how blood had gushed out in pulses. “I believe he'd bitten through an artery.”

“An artery? That would explain the blood.”

And there had been no medical facilities in that prison. Brogenar must be dead now. “It is my fault, isn't it?”

“That Quark bit someone?”

“That we were taken to that prison. Quark is a civilian, it was my duty to keep him safe and out of trouble. But I must've missed something, he must've broken a law. And I-”

“No, Worf.” Jadzia leaned closer and cupped Worf's face in her hands. “It wasn't your fault. The Wesr Rabyen Government wanted preferential treatment in the peace treaty. They figured holding the two of you hostage would force the Federation to sway the negotiations in their favor.” Jadzia looked down, and took hold of Worf's hand, squeezing it tightly. “It took us a day to notice you were missing, and four more days before we located the facility where you were being held. If you didn't have your sub-dermal transmission chip, we might've never found you at all. It was well hidden, deep below the planet's crust.” She started petting Worf's fingers, more to soothe herself than him. “I'm sorry we couldn't get to you sooner.”

Worf frowned, trying to absorb her words. “That... makes very little sense. Why would they place us in that prison if we were to be hostages? A dead hostage is of no use. For anyone.”

“I don't know what they were thinking. Perhaps they believed that horrid prison was the only place that would manage to hold a Klingon.”

Worf gave a small toothy grin. They had been scared of him then. Scared enough to place him with the lowest scum and most violent criminals of their society. Good. But Quark had been placed in that hell as well, he wouldn't have survived if it had not been for Worf. The Ferengis are so very small, and that hellhole had been filled with honor-less monsters that prey on the weak.

He had to see him. For five days seeing Quark whole and feeling him pressed safely against his back had been the only things Worf could focus on, the only two things that helped keep his sanity in that bedlam of turpitude. Right now he was safe, at home with his wife at his side and finally receiving medical treatment. But the longer he was awake, the longer he was aware of Quark's absence, and he could feel himself tensing.

“I must see him.” It took tremendous effort, mostly due to the numbing devices interfering with his muscles, but he managed to sit up. “Where is he?”  
Jadzia stood up, her brows knitted in confusion. “Who?”

“Quark.” With even more effort, Worf shifted his body to the side and swung his feet down onto the ground. Except his feet didn't meet the floor, as Jadzia had grabbed him to stop him leaving the bed.

“You are in no condition to be going anywhere. Quark is _fine_. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, my wife. My Jadzia.” For a few shameful moments, when he'd been curled near the entrance to their alcove and waiting for the next attack to come from the dark, he had been sure he'd never see his beloved again. He would never be able to apologize enough for that moment of doubt, for not having absolute faith in his wife to find him. He wasn't about to disbelieve her now. But he had to see Quark. 

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against her, her skin smooth against his ridges. “I do trust you. But I must see him. It-” He struggled to come up with a term that would explain, that would placate the worry in Jadzia's eyes. “It is an irrational emotional need I cannot at this time explain.” Not eloquently enough not to worry her more, but it should do. And it did.

Jadzia sighed and nodded. “All right. I can understand that.” She gave him a gentle smile, then slipped under his arm, tugging him off the bed. “Come on, then.” She didn't once offer to get him a wheelchair, and Worf smiled at her gratefully.

Getting to the door was not easy. Both the numbing devices and the splints on his legs made each step a challenge. But Worf was as stubborn as any Klingon, and Jadzia supported him up each time he stumbled. Together they made it to the door and past it.

Quark, as it turned out, was in the private room right next to Worf's. They didn't go inside, though. Jadzia helped Worf brace himself against the window and switched the privacy setting off, turning the opaque glass transparent.

What Worf saw inside made his blood freeze in his veins. In the room, there was a single bed, with a single figure stretched out on it, covered from head to toe with a sheet.

Worf had been in enough human infirmaries to know what that signified.

But no. No. No. It couldn't be. Quark hadn't been hurt, Worf had kept him relatively safe for five restless days, he hadn't been hurt! Jadzia herself had assured him Quark had been unharmed, just scratches and bruises she'd said. Jadzia would not lie to him! 

But the more he looked, the more what his eyes were seeing didn't change.

He had failed after all.

Jadzia rushed back to his side again, slipping once more under Worf's arm to hold him up. “Worf, what's wrong?” She looked into the room as well, eyebrows furrowing in worry. “Do you see something-” And it dawned on her and she gripped Worf's wrist in a reassuring hold. “Worf, Quark is fine. He's fine. That's Odo.” She squeezed Worf's wrist tighter, and he turned his head slowly to stare at her. “That's just Odo.” 

“What?” Odo? Odo was under that sheet?

Jadzia nodded. “The Ferengi like to sleep all covered up with sheets or blankets.” She gestured at the figure on the bed. “ _The sheet_ is Odo. He's just being overprotective while Quark sleeps.”

“....ah.” So Jadzia said, and Worf believed her, he wanted to believe her. But he had seen so many covered in blankets like that, both friends and crew members, covered with a sheet because they were no more. And he wanted to believe the reassurance that Quark was fine, but he couldn't. Not entirely, not completely.

Jadzia sensed it without Worf having to voice it, and she slipped out from under his arm and knocked on the door before opening it.

“Odo?” She didn't step into the room, keeping one eye on Worf. The sheet twitched, and Odo's familiar face morphed on its surface.

“What is it?” Odo asked, his voice soft, as if he was trying not to wake someone.

“Could you uncover Quark for a moment?” Jadzia asked, her voice just as soft. She cocked her head towards where Worf was still leaning against the window. “Worf wants to see him, to make sure he's alright.”

Odo looked to Worf, and somehow nodded without needing to shift a neck. “Of course.” And the sheet lifted, billowing up and revealing Quark's upper body. His face was relaxed in sleep, a delta wave inducer planted directly on his forehead ensuring he'd stay that way. His breathing was slow and deep, his chest rising with each breath he took. Breathing meant alive. Sedated, but alive.

Odo morphed a head and a neck, extending the latter so that the head was sticking out past the doorway. The rest of him stayed with Quark, still in the form of a sheet to cover him with. “Quark will be fine, Mr Worf,” Odo said said, and Odo had too much honor to lie to him. “He became hysterical when you lost consciousness, so Doctor Bashir is keeping him sedated for the time being, to reduce his stress levels,” he explained. “Apparently, the prolonged stress had done some damage to Quark's heart, but nothing that can't be reversed with proper treatment.”

Worf stared at him and felt the knot of tension relax in his chest. “That is good to hear.” And it was. Worf had not failed, he had done his duty and kept Quark safe. And now Odo was with him, and Odo could easily take care of any threat that dared rear its vile head. Odo would keep Quark safe quite efficiently. 

Odo continued, “I wish to thank you, Mr Worf. I am fully aware that you have saved Quark's life I can't even imagine how many times. I am forever grateful for that. By Klingon customs, I believe we now owe you a life debt.”

Yes, that's right. Odo was to Quark what Jadzia was to Worf. 

“We'll figure out a suitable recompense once both Worf and Quark are able to take part in the negotiations,” Jadzia proposed in the proper Klingon fashion and stepped back to Worf's side. “Do you think you can rest now?”

“Yes,” Worf nodded, feeling the exhaustion seeping in, even into the numbed parts of his body. They were back home, kept safe by Jadzia and Odo. So Worf shuffled back to his bed without protest and finally let himself rest.

End

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are life for writers. Please comment and let me know how you like it!


End file.
